


Trapped

by erbine99



Category: Legend of the Seeker (TV), Warehouse 13
Genre: Confessor Myka, F/F, Mord-Sith Helena, a bering and wells legend of the seeker au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erbine99/pseuds/erbine99
Summary: Myka Bering is the Mother Confessor. H.G Wells is a Mord-Sith. Pete is the Seeker of Truth.When Myka and Helena are trapped in a tomb, their true feelings come out.
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Some info for those who haven't watched Legend of the Seeker (and uh... you should). The Seeker of Truth is this big destined hero. The Mother Confessor is both a ruler and a super-powered lie detector and she can "confess" people, ie take their will forever. Mord-Sith are a group of female warriors with the power to stop magic. Mord-Sith and Confessors are mortal enemies.
> 
> This work takes a lot from ep 2.16 of Legend of the Seeker, Desecrated.

This is not where I thought I’d end up. Traveling the Midlands with the Seeker of Truth and the Mother Confessor was not how I saw my life going.

Of course, I never envisioned getting pregnant either. Of course, it was a great honor to be chosen by the Lord Macpherson Rahl. And it was… expected for my daughter to be taken away from me. Mord-Sith exist to fight, not to raise children.

But to hear that Lord Rahl had Christina killed. That was the beginning of something. Of the dreams of pressing my agiel to the throat of the man I had sworn to serve above all others. Of… emotions unbecoming a Mord-Sith, like regret and mourning.

I tried to channel my rage into my work. To kill and kill in the way I had been taught since childhood. To ignore my feelings.

And then on a mission to destroy the Seeker of Truth, Pete Lattimer, I learned that he and Macpherson Rahl were brothers with an equal claim to the title of Lord Rahl. I could not rid myself of my loyalty to the name of Rahl - it is part of who I am. But I could shift that loyalty to someone else. Someone perhaps more deserving, bumbling as Pete is. Where Pete goes, his Confessor follows (though more often she is the one doing the leading). So I joined forces with two people I had once considered my greatest enemies.

\-----  
It had been a simple thing - a party for Pete’s birthday. Silly and sweet, much like Pete himself. The locals had thrown it, but when Myka and I were asked to participate in a party trick, we found ourselves magicked into a dark place, some sort of wall-less window-less bunker.

On each wall was a torch, giving us some small amount of light. On the floor was an hourglass. Squinting, I saw what it said.

“You have one day until the sands run out, and when they do so does your air,” I read. Myka exhaled sharply. She had been feeling along the walls, looking for some sort of exit, but she stopped when I spoke. Her white confessor dress was trailing in the dirt.

“Helena. We will find a way out of this,” she reassured me. I was not so certain. Pete would look for us, but could he and the wizard Artie Nielson Zurander find us in time? Or even find us at all? In between us on the floor was a journey book - a magical means of communication over distance. A quill sat next to the book. I crouched next to it, and opened the book. Slowly I saw letters in the Seeker’s handwriting form.

_Myka and Helena - are you alright?_

“Myka, it’s a message from Pete.” Myka sat down beside me and stared at the book. She pulled out her knife and brought it to her hand, to give us the only ink a Journey book uses. I placed my hand on hers, stopping her from making the cut. “Your blood is more valuable than mine, Mother Confessor.”

Myka frowned, but allowed me to take the knife to my own hand. I hardly felt the sting, and then she was writing him back.

_We’re fine Pete. Well, fine so long as we have air. The hourglass says we have one day’s worth of air. I think this is a tomb._

Myka put down the quill, and I picked it up.

_Get us out of here so I can destroy the magician who did this to us._

A message from Pete appeared slowly.

_I need you to look for anything identifying in the tomb. As if that was easy, with as little light as we had._

I stood up, and removed one of the torches from the wall. Myka did the same. We began inspecting the walls for anything that might tell us where we were. We found nothing, just sheer rock.

“The torches are using our air. We have to douse them,” said Myka. She was right and I should have thought of it myself. I took my torch and beat it against the hard stone of the ground. Myka did the same. Eventually they died out, and we were left in pitch blackness.

I sank down against the wall and sat. Waiting for someone else to fix a problem wasn’t my style, but there was nothing I could do. It was then that Myka said the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard pass through her lips.

“Kill me,” she asked.

“You can’t be serious.” There was a time when I would have taken her up on her offer and been glad to do it. I could not imagine it now.

“Kill me, and revive me with the breath of life when Pete finds us.” I closed my eyes.

“We have no idea when or even if the Seeker will find us. We can’t risk that.” Slowly, I opened my eyes again. It made no difference to what I saw in that darkness, but it brought me clarity. “But I can die instead.”

“I can’t bring you back,” said Myka, panic in her voice.

“But you can live.” I replied. As a Mord-Sith, I should never have grown fond of a Confessor. But I have done many things I never should have. My duty was to the Seeker now, and the Seeker needed her more than he needed me.

“You can’t do that, Helena. If we die, we die together - and we’re not going to die.” Myka was sweet but occasionally foolish. In the balance of things, her life was worth more than mine.

“Better me than you, Myka,” I said, bringing the knife I had previously taken from her to my neck. Myka couldn’t see me, but she must have sensed what I was about to do.

“Don’t you dare, Helena.” I lowered the knife. Myka and her nobility would be the death of us both.

In the darkness, she fumbled towards me, putting her hand on my wrist. I dropped the knife. I felt like shivering, but it was not cold. Emotion bubbled up in me, the very thing I had always tried to keep at bay.

“We’re not going to die, Helena,” she said, stroking my wrist.

“If we do die. I want you to know…” I started speaking and then stopped. What I had to say was difficult, and uncharacteristic of me.

“You want to tell me what?” Myka asked.

“That I should hate you but I don’t. Mord-Sith and Confessors are enemies and opposites. But I..”

“Yes, Helena?”

“I consider you to be my friend.” I could almost HEAR Myka smile at that.

“I think that too,” she said. I thought of yanking my hand away from hers and fumbling for the knife. I thought about it, and thought about it, but did not do it. “Pete will find us. I trust him.”

“I know, Myka. He just needs a little more time.” I pulled my arm out of her grip, and scrounged for the knife, finding it easily.

“HELENA,” she yelled. And then I was being tackled, wrestled for the knife. Myka slammed me into one of the walls, but I held onto the knife.

“Stop acting like my life is worth more than yours!” I begged. I felt the irony of her using her air to stop me from giving her mine.

I kicked her hard in the gut. She grunted and slapped me hard in the face.  
Then, the top of the tomb opened, and light - and more importantly, air - streamed in. I dropped the knife, and saw Pete’s smiling face above us.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked. Myka brushed off her confessor garb, and I rolled away from her.

“Not at all,” said Myka.

“Did you get the bastard who trapped us here?” I asked. Pete frowned.

“It’s complicated, H.G.” Fine. I would deal with him myself.

\-----  
The next night, Pete was sleeping soundly, and Myka and I sat by the fire.

“Helena, I wanted to talk about what you said in the tomb”. I sighed. This? Now?

“Forget I said it, Myka.”

“I… may have been untruthful,” said Myka. Now that interested me. Confessors rarely lie. “I told you… that I also consider you my friend.” I nodded. Perhaps the woman was simply so foolishly kind that she had done all that to keep someone she truly hated alive. “And that’s true and I don’t ever want you to think it isn’t.”

She stood up and walked over to me, terribly close. She tucked a strand of hair behind my head, and placed her hand on my cheek.

“What are you doing, Myka.” I asked.

“I think… whatever we have, it’s more than friendship.” And then she kissed me. Her kiss was gentle, far softer than that of my fellow Mord-Sith. But it felt right. We parted slowly. “Don’t you ever scare me like you did in that tomb.”

“I promise you nothing, Confessor,” I replied. But I did kiss her again.


End file.
